


But Of The World

by curds_and_wheyface



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: (no seriously - heavy on the daddy kink), Daddy Kink, Fury AU, M/M, Soldiers, WWII fic, fucking in a tank, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curds_and_wheyface/pseuds/curds_and_wheyface
Summary: Loki’s not even sure where he sent the others off to this time, just that he came back and found only the Sergeant there, waiting on him with a look on his face that only ever means one thing.
Relationships: Loki/Thor
Comments: 33
Kudos: 251





	But Of The World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pohjanneito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pohjanneito/gifts).



> Inspired by the movie Fury and based loosely on the dynamic between Don 'Wardaddy' Collier and Boyd 'Bible' Swan.
> 
> Written for [umakoo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo) who recently rewatched Fury and inspired this idea. Thank you for always encouraging me and for helping me out of the 18-month fic-writing funk I've been in lost in. <3

They don’t have much time. He’s on his knees with a hand shoved down the tight band of his khakis before Thunder has even closed the tank lid behind them.

He drops himself down, heavy enough to make a deep clang echo through the compact space, and shuffles over to Loki at a crouch.

“In a rush?” he grins, pulling Loki to him by the scruff of his jacket.  


He knows they are. They always are.

They kiss like they’re fighting, pent up energy and violence they haven’t yet expelled today seeping out into this, teeth clashing and hands rough on each other. It doesn’t matter if they bruise - they’re black and blue all over already.

Loki loves being manhandled, which is fortunate because Thor ‘Thunder’ Odinson - their Sergeant and his commander in every sense of the word - can’t seem to help himself. Sometimes even when the others are around he gets his hand around Loki’s neck, or nudges at him for no reason as he passes by.

Loki revels in it, preens for it like a bitch in the safety of these meagre moments of privacy they find for themselves.

It’s been a little while since they last had this, haven’t been far enough away from an enemy stronghold for long enough to relax.

These days, Thor can get Loki hard with just a look.

Loki’s not even sure where he sent the others off to this time, just that he came back and found only the Sergeant there, waiting on him with a look on his face that only ever means one thing.

“You ready?” Thor says against his mouth.

Loki could laugh. “Been ready for days. Are you?”

With a sharply raised brow he cups roughly at Thor’s crotch, finding him hard, as expected. It sends a thrill through him.

“Let’s go, then,” he says, letting go of Thor to wrench his own belt open, shoving his khakis down his thighs.

Thor gets out of the way, watches hungrily as Loki gets on his hands and knees.

Behind him, Thor spits into his hand.

“Fuck, yes,” Loki shivers.

And then there are thick fingers working their way inside of him, no preamble, no patience. They don’t have time for patience.

“Yeah?” Thor huffs, grin clear in his voice. “Say it.”

The stretch feels good, makes Loki feel hot all over. He can already feel his undershirt growing sweat-damp beneath his layers and cringes at the thought of being in them for at least another day.

“Say it,” Thor repeats, treating Loki to an extra-deep jab with those fingers at his insolence. It catches Loki just right, has him arching his back and letting out a low, desperate whine.

His stomach tumbles, the nape of his neck prickling as he says, “Want it, daddy.”

He hears Thor’s slow breath and can picture him; nostrils flared, smug.

They’d been doing this for some time already when it had started, the daddy thing.

Thor had had his face inches from some new recruit’s, flushed red with anger, vein throbbing at his temple. The recruit, freshly eighteen and out of his mind with fear, hadn’t done as he was told and someone had almost died as a result.

“Did I ask you to shoot?” Thor had bellowed at him.

“Yes!” The recruit barked back, sobbing, mouth shiny with snot, his watery eyes trained hard on the ground.

“Then  _ why the fuck- _ ”

“I’m sorry sergeant!”

He had sounded sorry. Desperately sorry.

Several of them had winced as Thor bashed the recruit’s head against the tank, the metal of his helmet making a sound that no doubt shook the boy’s brain.

Thor had stepped away, a few paces, taken a breath. Sometimes he got like that, overwhelmed with his anger. Like a red haze came down over him, he told Loki once.

They didn’t call him Thunder for nothing.

Calmer, then, he’d marched back over, closed in on the boy again.

He wasn’t yelling now, but his anger still simmered there, bleeding clear through in his voice when he said, “You listen to your daddy back home, boy?”

For a flash, the boy’s eyes met his, surprise and a moment of indignation, before he caught himself and looked back at the floor with a rushed “Yes, sergeant!”

Loki was just a foot or two away, still crouched where he’d been checking over their nearly-wounded comrade.

“Well,” Loki had heard Thor say. “Out here that’s who I am, you hear me? I’m your goddamn daddy and you listen to every fucking word I say. You got that?”

“Yes, sergeant!” A desperate, terrified nod followed by a few beats of silence.

“Who the fuck am I?” Thor had said then, and something low and dark in his voice had clutched deep in Loki’s belly.

The recruit had said what Thor wanted to hear, miserable and still full of snot and tears, and then Thor had patted him hard on the shoulder - a conciliatory gesture - and let him run off.

Thor had watched him go, rubbing at his chin with a pained expression, like he hadn’t enjoyed that one bit, and then his eyes had flashed to Loki.

“What?” he’d growled, defensive like he thought Loki was judging him, and in the moment Loki had only shrugged and looked away, pretending to mind his own business.

But the next time they’d been alone, Thor shoving him down onto his knees in the dark corner of an abandoned building and telling him to use his mouth, Loki had breathed it.  _ Yes daddy.  _ And Thor, eyes narrowed with surprise but dark and heavy with arousal, had quirked a curious brow and told him, with that same darkness in his voice, to say it again.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” he says now, voice a shudder as Thor leans down to spit right where Loki is clutching tight at his fingers.

“I got you,” he says, crooking to find the good spot, making Loki scrabble for purchase on the unforgiving metal floor that bites at his knees and palms. “I got you.”

And he does, too, every time.

Even in the rush Thor’s more gentle about it than anybody else Loki has ever done this with; few and far between and each as secret as the last, all in too much of a rush to get themselves off to pay him as much mind as he’d have liked.

But Thor, save for unexpected interruption, has never left him unsatisfied.

“This enough?” he says now, spitting again for good measure, and Loki’s not sure it is but he nods all the same, tilts his ass up as Thor tugs his fingers free and nudges the head of his cock against Loki’s hole.

“I’ll go slow,” he says, using his weight, carefully pressing in until the flared crown is seated inside the hot clutch of Loki’s muscle.

And Loki would love it if they could, if they could go nice and gentle about it, but this isn’t the place for that.

“No time,” he breathes, bearing down and backwards like a champ until he’s full, both of them whining about it.

Thor’s hands grab tight to his hips and then he’s grinding against him like he can’t help himself, pulling Loki tight against the roll of his hips. “Oh fuck,” he grits out. “The way you feel…”

Loki doesn’t give him a chance to wax lyrical, much as he’d love to hear it. They have precious little time.

“Come on, fuck me,” he says, and then, just to rile Thor up a bit more, “Need that cock, daddy.”

Thor groans, helpless against it, and pulls his hips back only to drive back in hard enough to shift Loki forwards an inch, grunting as he does. “This what you want?”

It’s good, the way it feels like a punch, like a bruise, and Loki pushes back into the next one, arching like a petted cat.

“S’what I need,” he says, voice catching on the next thrust.

His elbows buckle with the way Thor throws his weight and his strength into it - anything to give Loki what he needs - and he falls forward into some blasphemous approximation of a prayer, forehead pressed to the back of his hands where they rest on the cold floor.

Thor doesn’t falter, one hand on Loki’s hip and the other pushing up under his jacket and shirt, palm splayed across the small of his back, whether just to touch or to hold him down Loki isn’t sure.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Thor says, like they haven’t been four feet from each other for weeks now, tucked in this fucking box rubbing shoulders with three other soldiers. He’s just running his mouth, he’s a talker while he fucks, but Loki has no doubt that the sentiment is true because he’s missed Thor too.

Their breathing echoes around them, the clacking of their loose belt buckles, the small and unflatteringly weak sound Loki can’t help but make every time Thor manages to hit that spot inside of him  _ just-so _ , and Loki lets it all wash over him, heat pooling in his belly and flooding in pulsing throbs between his legs.

“Let me-” he huffs, lifting himself enough to steady himself on one elbow before reaching down to rub at the head of his cock, pre-cum slicking his palm, and taking himself in hand.

He lets Thor’s thrusts guide the rhythm of his strokes, each one backed by enough power they’d be in danger of rocking the tank if the thing weren’t heavy as a house.

“You gonna come for me?” Thor murmurs, smoothing that hand up Loki’s back to grip at his shoulder.

Loki’s not close yet, and he’s no faker so he says, “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Thor laughs, squeezes tight at his shoulder like a reprimand, then withdraws his hand to get both on Loki’s hips again. He redoubles his efforts; faster thrusts than he can surely keep up, and Loki does his best to meet each one, giving up entirely on touching himself.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs, unsure if Thor can even hear him over the other, more animal, noises they’re both making. “That’s it, daddy.”

Thor leans down over him, enough weight on Loki’s back to make his arms shake, and then it’s all hips, all low groans in Loki’s ear as Thor ruts at him like a dog.

He wishes they were skin to skin, Thor’s chest pressed to his back, sticky with sweat from the rush of it.

“Say it again,” Thor’s breath is hot at the back of Loki’s neck. “Want to hear it.”

“Yeah?” Loki says, a teasing edge to his voice even as his brain musters up every dirty thought he’s had in the last month. “Need to hear how much I want it? How desperate I am for you? Fuck. Feel like I’ve been hard for days just from being around you. The way you look, the way you fucking _ smell _ , Christ.”

Thor’s breathing is becoming more and more laboured the closer he gets, but Loki’s not quite giving him what he asked for. Not what he really wants to hear. Not yet.

“You know how often I want to climb in your lap and beg for your cock regardless of who’s around?”

It’s not a lie. It’d get them both killed, probably, but that doesn’t stop him from imagining it.

“Want you all the time. More needy for you than you even know.”

“Tell me,” Thor says.

Loki’s shaking still, not just from Thor’s weight but from the way he gets him, the chaos he stirs up in Loki’s belly.

“When you’re angry and barking orders,” Loki says, thinking about the last time one of them pissed Thor off, the way he’d stomped about with his shoulders tight and his teeth clenched like he was an inch from throwing a punch.

It gets Loki crazy, keen to be the one to loosen him up.

“When you’re quiet with worry, too,” he says, thinking about the last time they crossed paths with the Lieutenant and been given orders Thor didn’t like. Loki had been the one to put a hand on his shoulder and pull him out of it. He’d wanted to put his hands somewhere else. Everywhere else.

“When something gives you cause to smile,” he goes on, but before he can get too lost in a memory of Thor flashing those pearly whites and ridiculous dimples, Thor makes a choked sound.

There’s something off in his voice when he says, “ _Loki…_ ”

Like it’s a warning.

And Loki blinks, shakes himself out of it.

It’s not what Thor meant, and not really what Loki meant to say either, a little too honest, a little to romantic. It’s not what they do.

He turns his head, so Thor’s damp hair brushes his cheek, and lets it out on a breath. “Daddy…”

Even to his own ears it sounds like an apology.

If it is, Thor accepts it and they get right back to it, both of them unwilling to let anything get in the way of this right now.

Loki pushes back, arches prettily, bites at his lower lip to stop himself from fucking talking.

The mood’s shifted a little but the need is still there, the want, and Thor’s still bent across his back and seated deep inside him, fucking now with only small, shallow jabs of his hips so they’re barely parted, like they’re one being.

It feels good, the friction deep inside, but having Thor over and inside of him like this fills Loki with a different kind of warmth.

“So good for me,” Thor tells him, a murmur, a secret that Loki soaks right up.

“Yeah, daddy,” he breathes. He wants to touch himself again but he thinks Thor’s close so he focuses on pushing back into him, rolling his hips, lets out needy whine. “Want you to fill me up.”

He feels Thor’s jaw clench against his shoulder, feels the way his steady thrusts break and stutter, no discernible rhythm as he fucks in tight little pulses, chasing his orgasm. His whole body pulls taut, a rough half-cry jammed in his throat, and they ride out the spasms of it together, Loki pushing back into every jolt of Thor’s hips.

“Fuck,” Thor grits out, petting at Loki’s hips as he comes down from it, his own hips lurching less now, muscles loosening up. “Fuck.”

He pulls back, sluggish but still strong enough to flip Loki with reasonably little effort.

Loki’s cock is out, hard and curved up towards his belly, and they both watch as a drop of pre-cum threatens to mark Loki’s uniform jacket.

In a rush Loki gets it undone, tugs his shirt up out of the way, reaches down to stroke at himself because he’s so fucking close and Thor isn’t doing anything about it.

But Thor knocks his hand away, mutters ‘fuck’ again, and then he’s hunching over until his hand and his breath are hot on Loki’s cock.

Loki can’t help but thrust up into the heat of Thor’s fist, can’t help but thrust up towards his mouth.

“Hold your horses,” Thor gripes, and with his other hand he shoves Loki’s trousers down further, gets one of his knees propped up.

His fingers, two of them, slip inside with ease, spit and cum slicking the way, and then his hot mouth is around the head of Loki’s cock and it’s like a firework in his belly, too much and not enough all at once.

He wants to thrust, up into Thor’s mouth and down onto his fingers at the same time but he can do neither; Thor’s weight on him, fully in control and with Loki’s at his mercy.

He’s shamefully aware of his whining, his shaking, the way he reaches down with tight fingers to fist at Thor’s hair.

Thor pulls off with a pop and looks up Loki’s body to meet his eyes, fingers still working in and out of him, crooking again in search of his prostate.

“Fuck,” Loki says, glancing between Thor’s mouth and his eyes. “Please.”

A grin, then, on Thor’s spit-wet lips. “Please what?”

Loki’s head thumps back against the metal grate with more force than he’d intended, his stomach churning with heat and embarrassment.

He fucking hates this. When Thor turns it back on him. When Thor sees fit to remind him that it’s not something he says just for Thor’s benefit. That he gets off on it too.

“Come on,” he says, laying kisses on the pink tip of Loki’s cock. “Please what?”

Loki would be obstinate, refuse to say it, if not for the way Thor crooks his fingers again and takes him back in, bobbing down too slowly for what Loki needs.

“Please daddy,” he says, whines, whimpers.

And Thor swallows around him, takes him deeper, pulls off again with a crass slurp that makes Loki’s belly tighten even more.

“Please,” Loki says again, fingers looser -  _ nicer _ \- in Thor’s hair now. “Please, daddy. Please. Yes.”

Thor’s never tried to take him very deep, not the way Loki can, but he does enough to make it good, uses his tongue around the head, his fist around the base, fucks Loki good and deep with his fingers.

It doesn’t take long, and when Loki spills Thor doesn’t steal away the warmth of his mouth - he swallows it down - Loki’s reward for being good.

He stays there, too, nosing and mouthing at Loki’s twitching cock while it pulses out the last onto his pale belly.

He doesn’t get far when he’s done; Loki gathering him in against his side and Thor letting him, both of them breathing like they just surfaced from a river, tangled together mostly-dressed, too hot but too tired to do anything about it.

Too  _ unwilling _ to do anything about it.

Used to be that they’d tuck their dicks away in a hurry, avoid each other’s eyes for a while after. Thor would go off on some ramble about nothing, uncharacteristic, nervous chatter in the aftermath.

Loki’s not sure when it changed, but it has. They’re never so rushed to part now, regretful of it when they eventually pull away to tidy themselves up.

It’s not love, Loki thinks. Neither of them are stupid enough to go falling in love at a time like this. But he does worry, sometimes, that it’s something worse than love. Something more. He thinks that’s what keeps them here like this now, wrapped up in each other, all too aware, every single time, that this time could be their last. That one or the other of them might-

Thor tilts his chin up, mouth against Loki’s throat like he’s about to utter some sweet nothings.

“Smells like sex in here,” he says instead, gruff.

Loki laughs, shoves Thor’s face away with a hand. “Open the hatch then.”

And Thor does, pulls himself away and fixes his clothes, the long whine of metal fills the tank as he reaches up and lifts the heavy lid open.

And Loki does regret it, the loss of his warmth and weight, but he pulls himself up too. He can’t help but pull a face as he fastens his trousers, the seat of his underwear slick with spit and cum and only going to get worse the longer he stays upright.

But Thor’s looking at him, soft and fond, and Loki finds that he isn’t as mad about it as he might’ve been a while ago.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, keen to stand up straight again.

They’re both too tall for this fucking thing.

“Alright,” Thor says, one foot on the ladder readying to climb out.

But before he goes anywhere he hooks a hand around the back of Loki’s neck and pulls him in, plants a kiss on his brow, lingering for a moment. It’s like he’s trying to say something with it, something he can’t find the words for.

Loki lets out a steady breath.

“I know,” he says. “I know.”

And then Thor’s gone, hefting himself out of the tank and back into the unwelcome world outside, and, as he always does, Loki follows.

-


End file.
